


Coffee

by aBarlowRose



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Coffee, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Ficlet, M/M, Memories, Mild Hurt/Comfort, One Shot, Post-Reichenbach, Reichenbach Angst, Reichenbach Falls, Reichenbach Feels, Short, Short One Shot, St Bartholomew's Hospital, Trauma
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-11-13
Updated: 2018-11-13
Packaged: 2019-08-23 07:41:15
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 369
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16614740
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/aBarlowRose/pseuds/aBarlowRose
Summary: John takes his coffee on the roof of St. Barts.





	Coffee

John takes his coffee on top of St. Barts when Sherlock drags him on early-morning morgue runs. He steps onto the roof and leans against the access door, staring out across the tar. He doesn’t look to his right immediately, instead watching a couple of pigeons flutter on the window ledges of the building in front of him. He listens to the echoes of their wings and the gentle push of the wind and the hum of the city waking up around him. He takes careful, measured pulls from the cup in his hand and ignores the taste of sugar. He knows Sherlock does it to remind him, and he smiles a little.

Eventually, a car honks or a pigeon flies over John’s head, and he stops daydreaming. Turning resolutely, he strides toward the front edge of the building, trying not to picture the crime scene he remembers even after four years: the blood stain to the left that has been washed away; the empty, sucking space on the top of the ledge without any real indication that  _that’s where it happened_.  

John doesn’t look down when he reaches the edge, merely stops, stares out across the city, and raises the coffee to his lips. He can hear the door open behind him and the sure step of a man who has come to terms with an old pain approach.

Sherlock always knows where to find John.

When Sherlock comes up beside John and looks down over the edge, John reaches for his hand. Sherlock laces their fingers firmly, feeling the residual warmth that has seeped into John’s palms from the coffee cup. He gives John’s fingers a squeeze, unabashedly studying the other man’s face.

“You can see surprisingly far if you don’t look down,” John says calmly, still gazing out over the rooftops. The sky is clear for a London morning, and the sun rising behind them turns the brickwork and distant trees rich colors. Sherlock watches John’s eyes reflect the brightening sky, then carefully slides in front of him, back to the drop and fingers still linked. Sherlock’s eyes flare golden in the morning light.

“Then let’s not look down,” he says, leaning in to kiss him.

**Author's Note:**

> When I wrote this originally, Sherlock kissed him on the forehead. What a wuss.
> 
> Please comment any tw/cw tags you'd like to see applied. Thanks for reading!


End file.
